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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950519">And The Movements Jostled His Arse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah'>Serinah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Getting Together, Inappropriate Erections, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Romance, Travelling together, accidental orgasm denial, accidental teasing, horse riding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:34:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,268</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950519</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier loves Geralt. Wants him in every way. So riding behind him on a horse is... very exciting. Or torture. One of the two anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And The Movements Jostled His Arse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, I dipped my toes into this fandom now.<br/>*excited*</p><p>Special thank you to Kathkin and Fluxx for an extremely thorough beta and all the love and encouragement!<br/>&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>They’ve only been riding for about a quarter of an hour since the sun hit the zenith, but already Jaskier has forgotten all about his twisted ankle. Of course, he’d known riding behind Geralt would be difficult, but the reality of it is just so much harder. Literally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are several factors he hadn’t known to take into account. To name a few, he hadn’t appreciated how soft the double blanket on Roach's back would feel under him, or how dynamically the horse's movements jostled his arse. Or how it is impossible to maintain any distance between his groin and Geralt’s backside. He’d thought he’d be able to keep them from touching and he hadn’t expected the wind to blow the witcher’s smell right into his nostrils.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s cock is already half-hard and he’s trying not to think about how Geralt looked in the bath the other night: all muscles glittering in the low candlelight, his beautiful soft cock resting on his flat belly. Jaskier suppresses a shudder. Thank the gods, his clothes have layers and Geralt’s leather is so thick that even if he goes full mast, the witcher probably won’t be able to tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his lips tightly closed and fortifies himself for the prolonged torture. Roach is a very strong animal, so Jaskier knows that they won’t be stopping for a couple of hours yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands tighten in each other’s grip and he fidgets. Takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Tries to sit farther back, so his cock doesn’t get pressed too tightly against the witcher’s bottom. He almost groans when he succeeds, but it’s pointless: he slides back almost immediately and it’s like he’s rutting against Geralt’s arse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods help him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What has he done to deserve this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s getting painful in his breeches, and yet it’s also good, so impossibly delicious; every second step he presses tighter against the leather of Geralt’s behind, then it lets up, presses again and wave after wave of pleasure counteracting the pain is making Jaskier pant. His whole body is a live nerve and he thinks he could come pretty soon if only he could buck up for a precious few moments more. The pressure in his cock is mounting, mounting, mounting-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body goes taut and his breath hitches… but even if he wanted to orgasm into his clothes sitting behind Geralt, there is no way he can actually reach the release his body is so keenly seeking. It's constantly almost but not quite enough, the sensations tormenting him into wanting to put a voice to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He manages to keep his moan from crossing over the threshold of his lips, trembles, and relaxes once the danger has passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries breathing slowly, in and out, relaxes his muscles and thinks of music, but Roach is still keeping the same pace, his groin is still in the same position it has been for - he glances at the sun - gods, has it really been less than half an hour? His cock throbs. He goes on breathing. Slow, careful, just breathe, Jask, breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wishes Geralt hadn't taken off the saddle. It'd be harder on Roach, but with the edge of the saddle between them he wouldn't constantly slide up against Geralt's arse.</span>
</p><p><span>The tension starts building up again, and again he has to hold back from groaning his frustration and this time it’s even more painful. Even though he can’t actually come like this, the tight confinement of his stupid dick</span> <span>and the friction are getting to him.</span></p><p>
  <span>Geralt sits stiffly now too, as if-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asks, his own predicament totally forgotten. “Did you see anything? Are we in danger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Geralt rasps, then clears his throat. “I thought I saw something but no, it was a bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier relaxes. Just until his cock starts whining with unspent tension again and he has to think about the old fat dorm master back at the academy who always smelled vaguely of burnt milk, and that one time he fell straight onto the man while attempting to climb down the high wall after hours. It was gross!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop fidgeting, for gods’ sake!” Geralt’s voice is low but sharp. He draws in a deep breath and adds, softer, “Or are you in pain? Has your ankle got worse?”</span>
</p><p><span>Jaskier stiffens. “No, no,” he says, his voice slightly too high. “It’s okay, the leg’s…” He trails off, realizing that if his sprain hurts worse, Geralt will probably insist on taking a break. “Fine…” Because then Geralt would </span><em><span>see.</span></em><span> He would </span><em><span>know </span></em><span>about</span> <span>his predicament. And it would be </span><em><span>embarrassing</span></em><span>.</span></p><p>
  <span>Geralt is silent for almost a minute, and Jaskier thinks that the danger of further conversation has passed when the witcher speaks up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hands keep tightening and relaxing around my waist and you keep stiffening at my back,” Geralt says, matter-of-fact. “Any idea why that is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There… might be some throbbing... in my ankle. Very unpleasant throbbing. It’s okay though, it’s nothing, I’m going to stop. Tensing up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hums noncommittally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jaskier tries. But it's hard. Pun intended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can stop if you need to,” Geralt says a bit later. His voice is low and even just like always. It sounds like a bedroom voice to Jaskier. Breathe, Jask. Just breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s okay. I’m good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grunts disbelievingly in reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ride on but a little slower now. They don't speak, so Jaskier allows himself to relax as much as possible. Which isn’t much. Thank ye gods, Geralt remains oblivious to his plight.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, Jaskier is still mostly hard but he's also exhausted. His cock is shifting against the cloth of his trousers and it aches. His body is still thrumming with arousal but it's muted and he feels hot as if feverish. His head has fallen on Geralt’s shoulder, but thankfully the other man doesn't protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Roach stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A stream." Geralt offers as an explanation. "Roach needs to drink and you can sit under this tree. Seems dry enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slides off the horse and Jaskier almost topples right after him but manages to hold on for a minute before dismounting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cries out and almost falls because he stupidly puts all his weight on his hurt ankle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt catches him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Jaskier, you okay?” Geralt whispers hoarsely against his temple, still holding him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharp smell of ‘not really onions’ that has always felt so enticing to Jaskier hits his nostrils and his knees go weak. None the wiser, Geralt helps him to hop a couple of steps to the left and sits him down under the tree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Jaskier says in a small voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt's gaze is burning and his movements are somehow even more controlled and purposeful than usual. It can only mean one thing: he's still angry with Jaskier for getting hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry for holding us back," Jaskier says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher ignores his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was stupid to come so close to the fight," Geralt finally acknowledges his earlier apology. His tone is softer and the knot in Jaskier's gut unwinds a little. “I’m going for a walk,” Geralt goes on. “Going to be at least half an hour. Here." He hands Jaskier a dagger. "Although there’s nothing close by that could harm you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt isn’t looking at him. He's trying to make light, but is avoiding his gaze. Is he still upset? Is reaching the village quickly really this important to him? Is he regretting taking Jaskier with him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The witcher turns to leave and his stride is stiff. Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt? That would explain his shit mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt?” Jaskier says and immediately curses himself for speaking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stops, hums questioningly but doesn’t turn around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt offers another grunt. "Just… take care of your… ankle." He strides away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s arousal has dispersed, his mood ruined, and he gets more comfortable as he closes his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting to come on this adventure with Geralt had seemed like such a great idea. He’d thought that Geralt liked him well enough, was happy to let him accompany him. But now Jaskier is holding him back and the witcher quite clearly resents him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This idiotic lusting after the witcher is getting out of hand. Having a crush on the man is one thing, but getting himself worked up to a degree that threatens to unbalance their relationship is something else entirely. Gods, what if he’s finally managed to drive Geralt away?</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day is more of the same. In the evening, they make camp at the riverside and again, Geralt leaves Jaskier alone for more than half an hour. His mood plummeting even further, Jaskier composes a stupid maudlin song about a beautiful water nymph who bewitches a simple bard but never cares enough to love him back. He has to stop when the water nymph starts developing strong shoulders and leather clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Geralt gets back, looking unfairly calm and relaxed, Jaskier is still feeling rather blue, but he plasters on a smile and starts a jaunty song about a frog who got stuck in the mud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Geralt asks, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s wrong,” Jaskier croons into his song and drastically changes the tune into the melody he was composing earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He modifies it into an exaggerated version of itself and belts out about how shiny the fish scales are on a pretty tail. Geralt gives him a stink-eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late. Go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buut…. what about the foooood,” Jaskier sings. “Do you have the fooooood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt’s dark expression clears and he goes to rummage in his sack. After a moment he tosses Jaskier a hard grain cookie and eagerly, Jaskier puts his lute away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve finished the verse on principle,” he tells Geralt. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> lucky that I’m hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And gods, he’s still horny too, but Geralt sleeps too lightly for Jaskier to try anything now. He just hopes that his ankle feels strong enough for walking on the morrow.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t. His stupid ankle is still weak and Jaskier has to ride behind Geralt and suffer. Well, suffer is one word for it, but the truth is: it feels good. So, so good. It was kind of good yesterday, but today it’s somehow different. Exquisite. His leg isn’t really bothering him unless he leans on it, he’s slept for seven solid hours and his belly is full of fresh fish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels rejuvenated and his arousal is bliss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a sweet edge to the torment now; the idea that he can have the gentle wisp of a touch and that it’s Geralt who is unwittingly giving it to him. The White Wolf himself, the knight of deliverance, Jaskier’s personal hero - he’s here, so close and too far, and Jaskier can almost smell him on this windless day if he leans close enough. He can have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just enough to get hard but no way to get off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, Melitele, you wicked lady! Apparently, the goddess of fertility and love has a sense of humor: Jaskier has developed a new appreciation for orgasm denial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea alone makes his cock twitch again and his hands tighten around Geralt’s waist involuntarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt makes a strange noise as if being strangled and reflexively, Jaskier lets go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, are you okay?” he exclaims. “What happened? I didn’t notice anything.” Frantically, he’s looking around himself, especially as Roach stops abruptly and Geralt jumps off. Jaskier wants to climb down too, but Geralt’s strong and resolute hand pushes against his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Stay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, arousal is making him lightheaded and Jaskier stills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why...?” Hastily, he tries to position his arms so that he could hide his bulge, but thankfully, Geralt isn’t even looking in his direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no danger,” Geralt says flatly. “I just want to walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes the reins and sets off on foot, his stride fast but short and uneven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier wants to call out to him, but somehow the name dies on his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Involuntarily, his hand sneaks down to his invigorated crotch and before he manages to pull it away, presses down. For a second or two or more it feels fantastic; Jaskier suppresses his moan as his throbbing cock revels in the sensation, but of course, it’s not really helping. Geralt’s back is to him and for one crazy moment he thinks of jerking off right then and there, but his sanity prevails. Strangely though, the loss of contact on his cock makes his pleasure triple and he has to press his lips together to hold back a whimper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He repeats it three times more before it gets to be too much torment.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They have a short lunch break an hour later. Or rather, Jaskier and Roach have a lunch break; Geralt spends it by wandering around the woods somewhere. Probably. Gods and witchers only know what the hell he's doing there. He disappears without saying a word and Jaskier is getting sick and tired of the moody witcher, so he doesn’t even ask. His libido, on the other hand, is saying plenty. Relentlessly, it makes Jaskier rub himself through his breeches while moaning quietly. Then he hears a twig snap, his hands fly off his crotch and that is that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a  fool, he spends the next ten minutes surreptitiously caressing himself in fear of being discovered, but doesn’t have the guts to actually do anything about it. Geralt is angry at him enough, no point in aggravating </span>
  <span>him by displaying the terribly inconvenient, though appropriately sizable, results of his attraction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In retrospect, he would’ve had plenty of time to come and clean himself up too, but by the time he knows that... It’s freakin too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Geralt returns, they eat, and when the witcher seems to be planning to continue on foot again, Jaskier can’t help but be exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we in a hurry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grunts, takes the reins, and sets off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t it be faster if we both rode?" Jaskier tries again. "I’m sure Roach is plenty rested now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, Jaskier simply has no words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>stink?” He leans forward in indignation. “I scrubbed the same day you did, you stinker! At the inn! And- and it’s not like you smell like daisies either!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Definitely not daisies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a minute, Geralt quickens his pace but then stops abruptly. Roach’s snort sounds distinctly affronted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Geralt says as if making a major concession. “I’ll ride. But you will sit still and not jerk around behind me. You got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier feels himself burst into flame with probably a full-body blush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? I don’t… jerk.” Much…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See that you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning around, Geralt throws him a seething look and in an impressive maneuver, gets on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still angry then?” Jaskier grouses sadly. “Look, Geralt. I’m sorry I got hurt. How could I have known that creature could stretch its tentacles so far!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt doesn’t reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you didn’t tell me and it didn’t tell me either! And it was dark - I had to see-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier regrets having reminded Geralt about the time pressing on and wishes he could just help himself to some perky witcher arse. Or a hard cock, he isn’t picky. At the moment, he doesn't even care that Geralt doesn't love him, he just wants to get off, and damn the consequences. He’s so hard, aching, heartsick. Just a little bit of tender loving… or maybe straight-up fucking...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he forgets that he’s not supposed to and almost bucks. He gets a hold of himself in time, but there was a jerky movement and tensing, and Geralt </span>
  <em>
    <span>growls.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier stills, cold with fear, adrenaline pumping, but Geralt doesn't say anything. Mortified, Jaskier whimpers and again - nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t even know if Geralt is simply so desperately straight or if it’s Jaskier specifically that he’s not attracted to. It’s not as if he hasn’t hinted enough, but Geralt has just plain ignored all the flirting over years and that has been okay. It had been okay until the countess hissed at him that if he’s so hopelessly hard after a certain mutant, he should just go to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier had and it… hasn’t made anything simpler at all. A little bit of lust, a pinch of proximity, bucketfuls of tenderness, and here he was, wretchedly pining after the moon and stars that were famously indifferent to (or resentfully outraged at) his antics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My ankle feels a lot better,” he says perkily after the next stop. “I think I should continue on foot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you run on it?” Geralt gripes. “We’re late as it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone implies that he knows full well the answer so Jaskier doesn’t reply and, praying for relief, any kind of relief from Melitele, gets on. He puts his arms around Geralt and tries to sit naturally, even as he feels his cock gradually stiffening almost as a reflex now. Fuck. Why hadn’t he gotten off last night when Geralt left for a bit? Or during lunch today? The hard edge of the studded gambeson caresses the front of his trousers and he swallows another moan, but it still results in a shudder. Oh, fuck it!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are we there yet?" he starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that Geralt's stubbornly ignoring him can only mean he's absolutely livid and will ditch Jaskier's company at the next settlement, so there's no point in holding back anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How much longer?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We're almost there, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tell me you can finally see the town?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Puh-lease!" he whines, assuming that this can't get worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, Geralt pulls Roach to a halt, jumps off, and glares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sorry you are horny, Jaskier the Bard, Nightingale </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prince,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but can you at least control your vocal cords!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier feels the blood drain from his face and his heart starts jackrabbiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, fine!” Geralt says in a tone that for him counts as yelling. “So you have an itch to scratch, I get it! So what do you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do about it? I think I gave you </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty</span>
  </em>
  <span> of time to take care of it, didn’t I? What’s the matter, no fair maidens in the vicinity? Well, I’m sorry to put it bluntly, but you only have this muscled beast here, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>deal with it!</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had started as a world-shattering shock was now tapering into humiliation of epic proportions. He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>given</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jaskier </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span> to deal with it? Oh gods. Geralt had known. He’d known from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>start!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh, sweet Melitele!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that…” he starts but then something occurs to him. No. He’s thinking backwards, isn’t he? Hearing things that he liked to hear, but… “Is this a proposition?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Geralt growls. Now he looks like a properly pissed off bullvore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean…” Jaskier tries to backtrack, but then decides against it. “You said that I have a muscled beast to… unless you meant…” Foolishly he looks around if there are any actual beasts to engage in acts of bestiality with. Shakes himself. “You meant yourself, right? So this is like… a proposition? Right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This seems to knock a little of Geralt’s confidence loose like a brick off a castle wall: not enough yet to storm it, but giving a surge of hope to desperate foot soldiers nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Geral acknowledges, “but not…” He lowers his chin as if to look more closely at Jaskier. “Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> propositioning</span>
  <em>
    <span> me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mere question Jaskier’s cock straightens, stiffens and boldly, he juts his hips out. Geralt’s eyes darken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not afraid to step up, are you?” Jaskier challenges, delighted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt snorts and suddenly, with a newfound confidence, steps closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you know what it's been like riding with you these past two days?” he asks, his walk turning into a fatally enticing murder strut and Jaskier’s knees turn liquid. “Trying to keep a level head while drenched in the odor of your relentless arousal? Needing to keep ready for anything that might happen on the road while you keep rubbing your cock against my arse? I'm no saint, Jaskier."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier’s heart is beating double time and he has to turn his face up to look up at the witcher who’s now standing a hair breath away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… sorry for inconveniencing you?” Jaskier says, and wonders if it’s fair game to grab Geralt by his pauldrons and kiss him stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt harrumphs a short laugh. “Inconveniencing me. Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier grins. “I said I was sorry.” He shrugs helplessly, and leans in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss is electrifying and soon they are grabbing, tearing, clutching and panting. Some of the clothing has to come off, some of it can’t. Jaskier’s doublet gets caught around his elbows restricting his ability to reach where he wants, but Geralt shushes him and pushes him down onto the soft dry leaves. He unlaces Jaskier’s pants and pulls them down. It’s not… It’s not… It’s not gonna-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt,” he moans, and tries to sit up to get rid of his doublet. There’s no way Geralt won’t rip his clothes if he doesn’t help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh… It’s okay, just let me,” Geralt says gently, quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are bright, imploring. Happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Jaskier lets him do what he wants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patiently, Geralt unties the ribbon on Jaskier’s braies, pulls them apart, and puts his palm on the full, aching cock. Jaskier gasps. Moans. When Geralt starts stroking, Jaskier closes his eyes and whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, no, Ger- lt...” Jaskier arches up in pleasure. “I’m gonna… come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gives him his patented hum in reply and a kiss on his neck. Several open-mouth kisses. Then he speeds his movements up and Jaskier’s world gets fragmented into pictures and a whoosh in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt,” Jaskier whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier is lying with his head on Geralt’s large chest, cradled against his side, one hand slowly caressing his hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Jaskier thinks, but can’t immediately pinpoint what it is that’s bothering him. Oh, yes! “You didn't come, Geralt. Why didn’t you... um… fuck me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it wasn’t something Geralt had no interest in? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn't need to. I’ve been… taking care of myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? Oh. Oh! Well… It’s not as if Geralt knew that Jaskier would be interested. Ah. No, of course he did, Jaskier has been flirting with him for years! And that’s why Geralt did, in the end, proposition him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pity fuck then. He’s decided to take a pity on the poor bard who’s been crushing on him so hard, he can’t even ride a horse sitting behind him. Jaskier shuts his eyes tightly. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Geralt says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say anything,” Jaskier manages in an almost normal tone, even though this blow, too, feels like a punch to the gut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking too loud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Of course. Jaskier grimaces. He sits up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And probably about all the wrong things,” Geralt continues, getting up too. “Or in the wrong way, going by the way your body has gone all stiff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier starts putting his clothes in order and so does Geralt, for all intents and purposes composed and confident. Jaskier gets up, gathers his lute and traveling bag, and starts limping towards the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, wait- wait,” Geralt says, finally noticing that something is wrong. “Where are you going? Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly gets in front of Jaskier and puts his hands on his shoulders, effectively stopping him. Looks into his face, but Jaskier avoids his gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that came out wrong,” Geralt admits. “This is what always happens with you, I just say what I mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier throws him a dark look. “So now it’s my fault,” he mutters, steps around and resumes his hobbling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean,” Geralt continues, trying to pacify him or... or- “I mean, I say things I don’t really mean. Or I mean them but they’re not the right words…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s speaking earnestly, trying to pacify Jaskier, as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jaskier</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the one being unreasonable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jaskier, Jask, wait. Let me… You can’t run away, you know. So I’m just going to come with to tell you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lah-lah-lah-lah!” Jaskier bellows out and then starts on the old children's song, “I know</span>
</p><p>
  <span>this tune that will drive you mad, I know this tune that will drive you mad, mad, mad, I know this tune that will drive you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Geralt seizes him around his waist, lifts him onto his shoulder and turns back towards their camp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing, you beast! Put me down, you monsterfucking son of a-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geralt, put me down this instant!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you listen to me if I do?!” Geralt demands in a dark voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen to what? You telling me how insignificant I am? How little you care about what I think or how I feel or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about how much I want you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This shuts Jaskier up quite effectively and Geralt puts him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt helps him back to the stupid tree they were under just a minute ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you just say? I mean, I know what you said, and I know you meant it, obviously. It’s just after all these years, it feels rather… Want me in what way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grunts, tilts his head and instead of answering, leans in and kisses Jaskier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not passionate like the last time, it’s not deep and feels rather sweet in its simplicity, but it gets the message across just the same.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoy ;)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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